


the hunt ends

by TheDragonLover



Series: Tumblr Requests [12]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horrortale (Undertale), Bittersweet Ending, Gen, Horrortale Papyrus (Undertale), Horrortale Sans (Undertale), Other, Undertale Monsters on the Surface, not entirely happy, reader's gender is ambiguous, where the monsters won against the humans, written for request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-23 21:39:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18558382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDragonLover/pseuds/TheDragonLover
Summary: Monsters have absolutely nothing to worry about, now that they rule the land they once cowered beneath. But Sans has a talent in worrying, and Papyrus is good at finding things for his brother to worry about.--For a request to write Horrortale angst-turn-at-least-a-little-happy with a Reader, where monsters defeat humanity once freed and keep them as pets and etcetera.





	the hunt ends

**Author's Note:**

> Considering the AU it's pretty much unspoken that it'll at least be vaguely dark, but just in case, I'll warn that some violence is hinted at (though either not acted upon or not explicitly described).

.

To think it would've been that easy.

Sans still couldn't believe it. Undyne had actually followed through with her promise after the barrier broke. They struck hard, fast, and with an appetite. Civilians crushed by bone and boulders, policeman pierced by spears and claws, armies annihilated by explosions and acids. Under the onslaught of furious and ravenous monsters, the humans hardly stood a chance.

With the surplus of supplies, the monsters were able to engorge themselves until finally, the bottomless caverns of their stomachs relaxed. They could think again. Feel. But they would never be the same.

The entire continent was theirs. The rest of the world didn't dare lash out, in fear of eradication. Queen Undyne finally couldn't handle the strain of so much Determination, and fell down. But the rest of monsterkind thrived.

To be entirely honest, Sans wasn't exactly happy. Not everything could be hidden from Papyrus, who had been devastated with each city that fell. In the end, though, what truly mattered was that they could put food on the table. It didn't have to be people anymore, either. They lived in the woods, a familiar territory far from city noise. Things could've turned out a lot worse for them.

He felt like he was forgetting something important, though. That nagging feeling followed him around a lot, these days. Like, he was supposed to be meeting someone. But who would he meet up here on the surface?

He can't even remember how the barrier broke anymore.

 

* * *

Years passed.

A few human strongholds were likely scattered about the monster continent, hidden well enough from scouts. It was the only explanation for the strays occasionally found wandering the wilderness. Some were eaten out of habit, but others were captured and sold as oddities and luxuries. Monsters would ready them for feasts, or keep them as pets.

That was never something that interested Sans. He had enough on his plate. Humans weren't on the menu anymore, and he was only keeping track of one mouth to feed.

Then one day, he stepped inside the front door to find Papyrus hurriedly flinging a blanket over the sofa. “G-good evening, brother! How was your t...trip?”

He could see a cushion, wet with something dark. And red. Something in his soul shifted. Then he was yanking the cover away, ignoring Papyrus' pleas.

_A human._

You'd been passed out in the woods, and Papyrus had stumbled upon your body on his afternoon walk. He'd carried you home, far healthier with a steady diet, and had just quietly introduced himself when Sans had barged in. His plan had been to nurse you back to health, like an injured bird.

But they couldn't keep you. If any of the old royal guard came out for a visit, their instincts would instantly pick up your human scent. Sans didn't want a fight on his hands, or for his brother to have to watch yet another human fall. So he tried to convince him to throw you out.

Papyrus refused. Adamantly. Crooked teeth were grit, sockets wide and staring. He knew exactly what could happen— _would_ happen. But still he vowed, “I won't l...let another human d-d-die!”

It was the waver in his voice. Sans resigned.

* * *

The rules were: You had to be restrained at all times, leashed when Sans wasn't home, and you had to obey their every command. This went from Sans telling you to sit in a corner for hours to Papyrus inviting you cook with him. In return, they didn't harm you, and they kept you fed and safe.

Unsurprisingly, you were wary of their food. But eventually you ate. It wasn't people, Papyrus promised. The reminder was painful for both parties.

One night had Sans leaning on the living room wall. You were sat in front of the sofa while Papyrus watched his favorite shows. Anniversary commercials flashed by. Had it really been fifteen years already, since the barrier broke? Sans glanced at his fingers to count the seasons. Too many. Scratching at his cracked skull, he missed how the episode ending.

Sometimes, he watched you as you slept. That dirty mattress he'd dragged in was hardly comfortable. But you hadn't complained. Funny, he couldn't recall you ever complaining. The tears from that first day were long dry. You weren't happy, but you weren't uncomfortable here. The household somehow wasn't crowded by your presence.

How odd, that he only just realized he'd never heard your voice. The world still slipped away from him on occasion. Often, when winter blanketed the woods in snow, he almost forgot they were free.

Papyrus always referred to you as “human.” Sans did too, except for the occasional slip-up. Sometimes you caught him in a good mood and got a “kid” instead. Then he'd catch you rolling your eyes. He wondered how old you really were. He probably shouldn't care. He wondered if it would matter if he did.

* * *

Despite his reminders and paranoia, life seemed to enjoy taking him by surprise. Doggo came by on an odd day, where Sans was farther from the house than usual. Even at his fastest, he would've been too late by the time he found the footprints.

 _This will destroy Papyrus,_ he thought, hurrying all the same.

The door flew open as he braced himself for a massacre. He remembered the last time Doggo had found a human. What he didn't expect was to find you at the dinner table, not on it—or your hand on Doggo's head instead of in his mouth. How had you managed to tame him? The old dog still managed a slow tail wag, head turned towards the front door.

“I didn't know you two had a human,” he barked. “I should get one and train them to give pets too!”

You were... something else.

* * *

Sans stopped peering at you, graduating to all-out staring. You gave him odd looks, but eventually you began staring back. He wouldn't blink, of course. Your head would tilt. Neither of you said a word.

If Papyrus didn't have you in the kitchen with him, or carrying you around, he had you solve increasingly difficult puzzles. They were always dangerous—in theory, because he gave you blueprints instead of the real deal. It was fun to guess when you'd give up. _My brother's got quite a talent with puzzles._

Yet you never did. For hours, you had sat there, pencil scratching across paper, until you finally came up with a feasible solution for escape. And while Papyrus kept you busy with puzzle after puzzle, Sans knew why there was a smile on his face. Whenever you found a way out, it was proof that the puzzles weren't entirely impossible. Someone _could_ have survived them. Blueprints were pulled out of the dusty trunk to decorate the fridge, all marked by circles and arrows and souls.

So... you knew exactly how to get out of the house. That much was clear. How to get out of bindings, how to cover your tracks, how to slip out of sticky, prickly or hairy situations. You had everything in that squishy head of yours.

To be honest, Sans didn't understand you.

* * *

You were sitting on the sofa when Sans got up in the middle of the night. So you _were_ slipping out of your restraints. He ignored how you tensed, sitting on the opposite end with a glass of water. You had never outright disobeyed the brothers during the daytime. Maybe this was your quiet rebellion. He didn't have the energy to be angry.

“You're really somethin', kid,” he muttered.

The television was off, the kitchen nightlight glinting off the screen. Ice _thunked_ in the freezer. You shifted on the couch.

When you moved as if to return to bed, a skeletal hand rose. “Don't bother. Won't be long.” You stared, gradually sinking back onto the cushion. The hand turned palm-up. “Guess you've got it pretty good here, huh?”

Years in the sunlight had messed with Sans' night vision, but he could still see the frown on your face. You nodded.

“You keep my bro entertained. Even helped him fix the sink.”

Red numbers glowed from his room. One-something-seven. Your hands twisted together like vines.

“Just wonderin' what your endgame is. Cuz, it's all a game, right?” You shook your head. “No? Huh. My mistake.”

There was something else going on. A voice was screaming in his head. Paranoia flared again. He hadn't eaten human flesh in years, but the sudden urge to rip your arm off with his teeth came and went. It left something heavy in his ribcage. No, he didn't want to eat you after all. He didn't want you dead. He hadn't ever wanted you dead. But he wished he did.

He only realized he was gripping his skull when your hand gently brushed his. The shock threw him off of the couch and away from you. You immediately hit the ground, already dabbing at the puddle. Right, the glass. Why had he gotten it again? Wasn't important.

“Wait—stop.” He stepped forward, halting just short. Your puzzled look was waved away. “Don't bother.”

You stared up at him, forehead faintly creased. The sight caused something to get to its feet in his mind—sluggish, but determined. It began to swell like a balloon, the growing pressure putting a strain on his smile. The urge for violence returned. He pulled at his injury.

In a breath, you returned to your feet and reached again. You wanted him to stop, as if you cared about his well-being. He jerked away. If you got too close, he didn't want to have to explain a disaster to Papyrus.

But you didn't give up.

It was strange that a human would have such power, especially in this world you lived in. And yet, Sans found himself pressed against a wall as you stood before him, your hand covering his. You looked him right in his sockets. Your warm flesh called for him. He could just take a quick bite. One small morsel from your shoulder wouldn't hurt, right? But even with the phantoms of hunger in his skull, it was that hand demanding his attention. Or more accurately, what he felt through it. It burned, sparked, hummed.

Your soul. He could feel your soul.

He stared at your hand as that balloon finally popped, releasing memories of a time free of starvation and horrors. When life had been simpler, even bearable. Snow puzzles, ball games, and trombones. When he and his brother had made the best of things, without succumbing to the worst.

When the skeleton brothers had met their very first human.

Sans couldn't forget a soul like yours.

Somehow, you knew that he had finally remembered. The way your expression brightened made him shudder.

“Human...” No. That wasn't right. “Kid.”

Here they were keeping you like a pet, and you still cared. You still participated in Papyrus' puzzles, even if they had gotten far more horrifying since you'd last seen each other. You still sat with them for dinner, even if Sans' ketchup pranks were a little hollow. While he should've been angry that you had left the Underground, left them for dead... He didn't have the energy to hate anymore. So much time had passed. You were only a child, back then. And in the end, you came back.

It was almost as if you had sought them out.

There were so many questions he wanted to ask. Things he wanted to know. Feelings he wanted to understand. But those could wait. Now you had all the time in the world. There was one pressing concern he had to address, though.

“You never paid off yer tab.” The look you gave him was perfect. The snort, a nice bonus. Hesitant, he finally mustered the courage to cover your hand with his other—not embarrassed, but determined not to succumb to horrible habits. “'Sokay. We can go see Grillby about it tomorrow.”

If he was going to do anything to make up for the situation you were in now... he wanted to make sure you saw all of your old friends. The ones who had made it, anyway.

(He offered a collar and leash, for “protection.” But you refused.)

.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Is the Reader actually Frisk, or simply a different human that managed to survive falling into the hellish Underground? I'll let you decide.
> 
> Written for a friend on tumblr, who wanted me to write more Horrortale. Thank you, lovely! I'll get the hang of it eventually!
> 
> If you want to put in a request for more of this (or with different characters), or for something new, you can message here or throw an ask at my writing blog, @thatdragonsdrabbles on tumblr.


End file.
